The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four)

by Ivory Autumn

  “Oh!” Andrew gasped. He could see the black shadows swirling around them, like twirling pools of oil on the water. He lowered his head, trying to peer through the water to get a better look. One of the shadows burst from the water just inches away from Andrew’s face. Ivory screamed, and yanked Andrew back just as it disappeared back into the water.

  The creature had milky eyes, sharp, jagged fins, and a bony face. Then several others peered up through the water, swirling around Ivory and Andrew, and click clacking their jaws together, snapping their jagged teeth, letting out echoing, hee, hee, ha, ha, hiyip, hehip, yips, that were answered throughout the water.

  “They’re everywhere!” Andrew said, quickly unsheathing his sword, while treading water. It was difficult to stay afloat, but he did his best.

  “Over there, Andrew!” Ivory said, pointing to the swirling water, where one of the fish was moving through the water uncomfortably close to them. “Get it!”

  Andrew could see its inky shadow swirling through the water after them, faster and faster. The dark shadow sprang up from the water diving for his arm.

  “Move, Andrew!” Ivory screeched, pulling Andrew back just as the fish burst through the water. The creature cackled loudly, yip, yiiip, yah, ha, ha---yaiiip, jabbing its horned head upwards, scraping a gash across Ivory’s arm.

  “Ivory!” Andrew gasped, cradling Ivory to him. “Why did you do that? Are you okay?”

  Ivory pushed away from Andrew, and scowled. “Yes. Of course I’m just fine. It’s just a scratch. You’re so slow, I’ll bet that fish would have eaten your whole head off before you even noticed.”

  “But…” Andrew protested, looking in horror at new set of inky shadows that followed the long trail of blood from Ivory’s arm.“Your arm’s bleeding.”

  “Yeah. It is. So?”

  Andrew ignored the irritation in Ivory’s voice. “So, we’ve got to get out of here before more fish smell your blood.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Ivory agreed. “Let’s make it a contest. First one to the shore doesn’t get eaten. Ready, set, go!” They both began swimming as fast as they could, with the trail of hyena fish following them---their dark barbs protruded from the water like spines of a cactus, sticking out every which way.

  “I can’t swim as fast as you!” Andrew protested, feeling vulnerable, and alone with Ivory swimming well in front. It was as if a shadow passed over the ocean. In that moment, Andrew felt as though the very ocean had turned black, and each droplet of water pulled and tugged on him, trying to drag him down. A heavy fog obscured his view of Ivory. Behind him he could hear the echoing calls of the cackling fish as they rose to the surface of the water taking in air.

  “Ivory!” Andrew called, seeing only mist and water. The restless ocean waves began to heave, and roar, tossing him back and forth, dunking him under. Time and time again, he resurfaced, only to be tugged back under. It was as if the water had become a black spirit that had no other desire except to consume Andrew, and drag him into its dark chambers. Water filled Andrew nose, burning his throat. He gasped for air struggling to keep afloat. The water had become so choppy that he could not swim against it.

  “I’ve got you!” Ivory called out through the mist, grabbing Andrew, and pulling him up. “We’ll be okay. I think it’s a freak storm. It’ll pass. I’ll keep us afloat until it is over.” She held onto Andrew, treading water, without tiring.

  “Thank you,” he shivered, suddenly realizing how hard he was clutching Ivory. “You’re right you know. I do need you a lot more than I let on. You’ve kept me afloat more times than I can count.”

  “Not all,” Ivory interjected. “You’re lungs help a bit too.”

  Thunder clapped, then lightning lit up the ocean in fractured webs of blue light, showing off the outline of a small boat teetered against the waves. A single lantern swayed back and forth from the boat’s bow. Steering the boat was a tall, bare-chested man, with skin the color of soft chocolate. He wore a necklace of odd-shaped pearls and silver earrings with long, dangling spines.

  “Hurry up. Gid, een! The man cried thrusting out his hand for Andrew to take. “Ged eeen! Yurry, before dem spine fishes chewies, you and spitttes your bones out. Gid in before the waves devour ya both.”

  The man leaned over the water and helped Andrew and Ivory into his boat. He tossed them a blanket, then began maneuvering the boat over the angry waves. The man gazed back at them with shrewd eyes. He held a long spear with an end made from the pointed end of a hyena fish horn. The man was completely naked except for a brown loincloth around his waist, and a girdle holding a curved knife.

  “I am Soundwave,” the man said, in a deep voice. He smiled showing of a set of silver teeth. “Tis good thing I found ya here. Before dem waves, and bad fishes gobbled ya both up. Very good luck for ya, it was indeed. It pleases me dat I have found ya. I have been searching for ya.” He heaved against the waves, digging the oars against the waves as he rowed towards the shore.

  “Searching for me?” Andrew questioned. “But why?”

  The man laughed a booming laugh that rippled over the ocean in powerful rivulets. “Ha, ha, ha! Who isn’t? I like ya boy.” He laughed again, sending out deep guttural notes into the misty sea, rippling the water with the sound.

  After he stopped laughing his face became very solemn and he spoke very softly. “Now, Soundwave, must teel ya a secret.” He paused. “I knowed ya. Knowed who ya are. Both of ya. Soundwave hears all things on the water. I heard the vibration of dat chest ya carry with ya. Those muffled, pleading, sad sounds have reached my ears. Those sounds came across the water and told me how heavy twas for ya to carry dem.”

  “Really?” Andrew asked. “How is that possible?”

  “It’s my job to hear. I hears all the waves, the tide coming in and out, the fishes, the music of the sea; and its secrets are mine. Sound travels through water like fishes.” He smiled, leaned over the side of the boat, placed his finger into the water and closed his eyes, listening. “Aw. Dis I know. Dis I know.” He quickly drew his finger out of the water, just as a hyena fish nearly snapped it off.

  Just as quickly, Soundwave grabbed his spear and jabbed at the fish until it swam away. “Be gone ye beasty devils!”

  He scowled at the retreating fish and turned back to Andrew and Ivory. “Out of all the fishes in the Pipe-whistle sea, the hyena fish is the most wicked. I can hear dem louder than any fish.” Soundwave laughed, and leaned on an ore, letting the waves toss the boat back and forth. “The sea is full of sounds. So full of beautiful musics. Sometimes it is full of sorrow, or anger, or peace. No sound is ever lost on the sea. Dat is why it is so very noisy all the time, crashing onto the rocks and roaring. It wants to be heard, but only few listen to what it has to say. Poor sea, not many men are good listeners. But I hear it. Oh the things I wish I could tell ya, if only ya could hear her yerselves”

  “What kind of things do you hear?” Ivory asked, her eyes filling with wonder.

  “Dat depends on what ya are listening for. Today, I was listening for ya both. I was listening to the subdued pleadings of the sounds in Andrew’s chest. So, I says to meself, I’s got to help those sounds get free. I’s got to help dat boy move dat chest faster. Da unsaid things gots to be freed, gots to be heard. Then, I knowed what to do. So here I am.” Soundwave licked his big lips. He put on a mysterious face, and lifted a long, purple glass bottle, filled with a swirling mist, with a cork in its top. He held the glass up to the sky, gazing at it with pleasure. “I do believe these sounds belong to ya.” He gazed into the sky with his hands drawn out as if in prayer. “Soundwave not only hears the sounds of the sea, he can turn things into sound. And I have something of yah’s, inside this bottle, dat I believe. Something ya have been looking for.”

  “I don’t think you would have anything that belongs to me in that bottle of yours,” Andrew retorted.

  “Oh, but I do.”

  “What?”

  “Yah horses. At least two of dem. And
a small cart in which ya can more easily pull dat chest of yah’s.”

  Andrew’s eyes grew wide. “I don’t understand. Our horses are in that tiny bottle? That’s impossible.”

  Soundwave nodded. “Dat is dem.” He pointed to two delicate wisps of sparkling, brown mist floating inside the jar. “Do ya not see dem?”

  “There’s no way our horses are in that jar!”

  “Humph. Dat’s what ya tink. But Soundwave knows better. MUCH BETTER.”

  Andrew squinted, staring at the jar with hard eyes. “The last time I saw our horses, it was in the Lacid Grove. They were separated from us. We never saw them from that time on. How could you have them, much less fit them in that bottle?”

  Soundwave closed his eyes and nodded. “Ah, but I heard their sounds, yar horses’ talk, and I heard dem. Some farmer found dem, caught dem, forced dem to cart loads of bricks. I found dem. And turned dem into sound, cart and all. And day are safe. I told dem I would bring dem to ya.”

  Andrew stared at the bottle, truly mystified. “You mean to say that you can keep sounds, or turn sounds into those things, those jellyfish, to keep in a bottle, like a can of peaches?”

  Soundwave looked hurt. “Jellyfish? Peaches? No. They are SOUNDS. Very safe—and SOUND. Very beautiful too. Once we get to land, I will release dem and fine they will be. Look, see how beautiful they are as sounds, before they are changed back.”

  Andrew stared into the jar, feeling, both sickened and awed by what Soundwave had done. Inside the glass he could see wispy outlines of his horse, Oragino and Freddie’s horse, Starfire. They were small, and barely visible. It was like holding a prism to the sun, catching glimpses of prancing rainbows and color.

  “See,” Soundwave said. “Most beautiful. Very safe too. Horses won’t sink a boat this way.”

  Andrew clung to the sides of the boat as a huge wave splashed over them.

  “Hold on!” Soundwave cried, steering the boat over the turbulent crashing of the waves. “I’ll keep her steady. Just keep yahselves in the boat!”

  Andrew’s stomach churned as the waves caught the boat, and another wave crashed over them. He closed his eyes, holding tightly onto the boat trying to shut out the terrible storm. Above the roar of the waves, Soundwave’s booming voice flowed over the water in a commanding melody.

  “Sogwasheeesea,” his thick voice belted out with all the passion he could put into his voice, splashing the oar into the water, struggling to keep the boat afloat. “Remade, remade, remade, sounding sea, sea, sea. Sogwong, rewood, randodot. Dodot, dee. Swish, swashoo, swishoo swashoo, seaweed stew.”

  As far as Andrew could tell, Soundwave’s song seemed like a bunch of nothing words, really. But when someone sings about something that isn’t really anything, with great passion, it sounds like something even when it isn’t anything.

  “We’re going to sink!” Ivory wailed, as another wave crashed over them.

  Soundwave stood against the waves. “No, we won’t sink! Tis a bad storm. But I’ve been through worse. We get ya to the shore. We will. This storm may be strong. But my voice is stronger. But talk to me as I row. I do want to know what ya favorite sound is. It will take ya mind off the fear of the water.”

  “You want to know our favorite sounds at a time like this?” Andrew gasped, whipping a spray of water out of his face.

  “YES!” Soundwave’s voice boomed. “Now tell me. First, Ivory, then you.”

  Ivory let out a loud sigh, and wiped water from her face. “Oh, I don’t know…doves calling, Andrew’s voice, the crackling of a warm fire. Those types of things.”

  “Ah,” Soundwave nodded. “Those are very good sounds. What about ya, boy?”

  Andrew shook his head, shivering. “Uh…I guess the sound of home. My father’s voice. That is a sound I long for. The singing of my mother, the birds in the trees, the calm, the peace.”

  Soundwave nodded. “Ah the sounds of home are sweet. I know of this. But these sounds are always with ya Andrew. Home is inside ya heart. Listen above the roar of the waves, above the storm, above everything, it is there, quietly speaking to ya, in a crowded throng, or alone. Tis there. Do ya hear it even now? Home is inside ya. Always, there is a safe place inside ya. The calm, the laughter. Dat is where ya will find peace, even on troubled seas. Those ya love are always with ya. With each beat of ya heart, dey’s always there. Listen. Ya can hear dem. Dey say always saying dem nice tings, always making ya feel better.”

  “I wish I could hear as good as you do,” Andrew shouted above the crashing waves. “Because I can’t hear it! Doesn’t feel like home is in my heart. Feels more like an ole’ hovel. A couple of sticks stacked on top of one another, with a few weathered boards and rusty nails holding it together---with a leaky roof, to boot. Or like a cold igloo.

  Soundwave laughed. “Ah, but those ole igloos must melt. Ya must listen. Carry the good sounds with ya Andrew. For the places ya are heading to have very bad sounds dat will try to drown out all other music. Where ya are going, it’s much dark, with different light, not warm at all. Dere, it be a very afrightened place—I tink. Many ugly sounds flow from the dark brooks, to this sea. Ah, but look,” Soundwave said, straightening up. “We are almost to shore.”

  Andrew squinted, looking through the tumultuous waves. He couldn’t tell where they were. He couldn’t see anything but water. For all he knew, they could be much farther out than in.

  “Listen,” Soundwave shouted, putting hand to his ear. “The Pipe-Whistle sea is singing---SINGING.”

  Andrew and Ivory listened, but all they could hear was the crash of waves.

  “Listen harder,” Soundwave told them.

  Andrew closed his eyes and listened. Then he heard it. Above the roar of waves, he could hear a flute-like sound. It was a soothing sound that trilled with the constant up and down of the waves, tryill, trrree, trreee, trill, twee, sea, seaaa, seeee. The music throbbed in rhythm to the sounds of the sea, and the wind, accompanying it to perfection.

  “Storm’s going to get worse,” Soundwave murmured, smiling as if he liked what he heard. “Pipewhistle sea always sounds off a louder warning when dem bad storms is a brewing, to warn those traveling on her. Such a kind sea. Not many seas alert those who occupy their waters of coming danger.”

  As if to reaffirm what Soundwave said, a great wave rolled over the boat.

  Splash!

  Andrew coughed, and wiped seawater out of his eyes. He held onto the side of the boat trying keep from being thrown out into the water. The wind had picked up considerably and the sky was black. Soundwave was rowing for all he was worth against the wind and waves. The fierce wind had taken the fog with it so that Andrew could see the outline of the shore not far from where they were. Yet, with the sea rolling and churning, the shore could have been miles away. The boat seemed to be stuck in the same place, not moving forward, or backward, only back and forth.

  “We almost there,” Soundwave yelled, flashing Andrew a big grin. He strained against the waves, pushing the oars through the water like it was thick sand---still smiling. We gonna get ya two to shore. We is.”

  A huge wave rolled over the boat, engulfing it and nearly drowning the boat's occupants.

  Soundwave still rowed, still smiled. “We gonna get to shore.” He assured them again. “We is!”

  Another wave washed over them. Soundwave still smiled, still rowed on, still remained unmoved, like a strong tree with deep roots. “Hold on,” he cried, standing tall through the turbulent tossing of the waves. He closed his eyes and in a strong voice cried, “Silence!”

  The waves and wind became even more turbulent.

  “Silence!” Soundwave thundered, again, louder this time, smacking an oar against the water in anger. The sound of his voice rippled over the water, vibrating every wave, every droplet, every wave, wrinkling out over the ocean, ironing out every wave, causing it to rest its troubled soul. The tossing boat ceased. The waves hushed.

  All became still.

  “G
ood!” Soundwave nodded, and grinned. He leaned out over the boat and tickled the water with his fingers. “Dat’s more like it.”

  Without another word, Soundwave quickly rowed them to shore, with ease, looking very pleased. “We are here,” he said. “Safe AND SOUND. Like I told ya we’d be.” He pointed at the sandy beach. “See.”

  “I’m a shore fisherman and I shall always be,” Andrew said stepping out of the boat and helping Ivory out. “

  “Eye, dat ya should be,” Soundwave agreed. “Life is too much like the sea. Why be tossed around more than necessary,” Soundwave laughed. “But then, I love to ride the waves. It is what gives me the most pleasure and joy. I can hear the soundwaves calling my name even now, tickling my fancy to catch as many waves as I can. So I must be off. Goodbye, and good luck to ya.” Soundwave turned and was about to shove his boat back into the now-calm sea, but he stopped. “Oh, I’m forgetting something.” He bent down and retrieved the glass jar from the bottom of the boat, and tossed it to Andrew. “Here. Ya might be wanting this. Uncork the lid anytime and they will be free. I hope this little boon will help ya get to where ya need to go, much faster.”

  “Thank you,” Andrew said, “for everything.”

  Soundwave smiled at Andrew and shook his bracelet-covered hand in his direction. “Take care of yahself, both of ya. I’m afraid dat many frightening sounds await ya both. I shall be listening in for yar success.”

  With that ominous warning, Soundwave rowed away. Ivory and Andrew watched him go, listening to the sloshing of his oars as they pushed through the water, until the sound died out.

  “He’s gone,” Andrew said, shivering, staring down at the glass jar Soundwave had given them.

  Yes. He is. Are you going to open it?”

  “I don’t know.” Andrew peered though the glass, watching as the glowing shapes pranced and danced around in the bottle, like liquid dreams that came and went with the night.

  “Here, let me see it,” Ivory said, taking the jar from Andrew. She smiled and gazed at the swirling sounds, tapping at it, like it was a mouse in a jar. “Let’s open it. I want to see what happens.”